


Horsing Around

by EssenEutons



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssenEutons/pseuds/EssenEutons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tired of being screwed over by his job as a thrift store clerk, 19 year old Eren Yeager storms out of work one day with no promise of returning. Broke and desperate for a new job, he stumbles across a HELP WANTED ad for a stable hand. Given only a phone number and a first name, can Eren really trust the mysterious man in Odenthal?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horsing Around

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much going on in this chapter other than the usual bad description. It's pretty darn short, too. Next chapter is definitely going to be longer... and hopefully better.  
> This story takes place in Germany, where it belongs.

“Go bag your own shit, you cheap bastard!” someone shouted from the exit of the thrift shop before slamming the splintered door, loose paint peelings shook off and fell to the muddy concrete flooring around it. “Who does he think he is giving my pay to that lazy bimbo?” he mumbled to himself, blowing strands of brown hair out of his red face to reveal emerald green eyes. He could barely afford food with his scarce pay, let alone a decent haircut.

“Eren!” a young man's voice yelled after him. “Eren wait!” The brown haired boy paused his rampage, the harsh expression on his face softened and he sunk his head. “Eren!” He shouted again before kneeling down and panting from exhaustion. Blond strands of hair stuck to his sweat-cloaked face and neck. His blue eyes shined when he looked up at his friends, though the expression on his face was filled with sorrow.  
“Go back to work, Armin,” Eren sighed, clenching his fists. The anger that was boiling inside of him has evaporated, leaving behind hints of devastation and worry.  
“Please,” Armin held out a shaky hand. In it was a plain envelope with blue lining around the open flap. “Please take this,” He forced it in Eren's hand and took off in the opposite direction  
before giving him a chance to question or decline his offering.

“Armin, wait!” he screamed too late. The docile blond was long gone back to his shitty job as a thrift shop clerk. He was probably already apologizing for his friend's profanity. Eren exhaled and looked down to examine the pocket of paper in his hand. It was pretty light; you wouldn't even be able to guess something was in it if it wasn't forced upon you by your shorter, slightly attractive friend. The envelope rustled in his soft palm as a warm breeze presented itself. His fingers moved along the sides and underneath the flap. He cautiously opened it and revealed a thin piece of parchment- a check. “No,” he said to himself. “Armin... Armin's pay?” Tears lined his eyes and he clenched the paper. _How am I going to make this up to him_ , he thought. _How am I going to get a job?_

****

Eren dragged his feet to the entrance of his apartment complex. Papers with headers of all sorts were sprawled all over the ground. It's worth a shot. He shuffled around the mess, reading each advertisement carefully.  
FREE TO GOOD HOME _I wish I was a kitten._  
TECHNICIAN WANTED _I can barely change a light bulb._  
CALL FOR A GOOD TIME _I could use one of those..._  
WANTED :: STABLE HAND _I could do that..._ GOOD PAY _Sounds good..._  
ONLY CALL IF INTERSTED. DO NOT WASTE MY TIME.

Eren was very interested. He glanced around his shoulders, checking for judgmental witnesses, then snatched up one of the fliers. A perfect rectangle was left behind, leaving the dirty concrete exposed for all to see. He, then, hightailed his perky ass out of there and straight towards his small apartment.

He nudged the crooked door of his studio residence and it glided open without restraint- a result of his bottled hatred towards the grocery store. A thick, musty odor lingered in the air. It stung the eyes, singed the brows, and dominated one's lungs. Eren was no smoker, but someone would easily mistake him for one if they entered his apartment. Maybe it was the tenant before him who inhaled the tobacco fumes. Streams of light from his dirty window illuminated dust particles in the air. Back and forth along the yellow stained walls, a mouse or two would scurry. Cobwebs remained dormant in the four corners that made up his entire living area.

A cloud of dust danced around the room as Eren flung himself onto the stiff twin-sized mattress. He straightened his arms out, holding the dirty piece of paper above his head to examine it. Words were neatly printed and organized into small listed sections. First, there was a brief description of the desired job. STABLE HAND, the first bullet read, IF YOU DON'T ALREADY KNOW WHAT THAT IS, DON'T CALL ME. Sounded simple enough. Armin used to work as a stable hand for some wealthy family. He wasn't very keen on mucking stalls and getting run over by children on ponies, though. That's what brought him to good old Wuppertal, bagging groceries and kissing ass to his superiors. Poor guy made a career out of getting pushed around.

Apart from the tiny set of requirements, all that was on the flier were two pictures of the ranch and some vague contact information. A house phone number and a name. Eren squinted to see if he was missing anything in the contact sections. He wasn't. That was all Levi had written for him. There wasn't even so much as a surname anywhere on the paper. _Boy, this guy is direct_. He thought to himself. There wasn't even any mention of pay besides what was said in the title. Under the suspicion the ad might be a hoax but too desperate to care, the young man dialed the phone number listed on the parchment, punching in one number at a time, then looking at the paper each time to make sure he got it right. Taking a big gulp, he pressed the middle “call” button and waited.

There were three rings before he heard a click. There was a short pause followed by a very smooth voice on the other end of the line. “Yes?” it answered. Eren's heart thudded in his chest, trying to find his own sound.


End file.
